


Uncle Dean

by lostinmymindforever



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Dean is John's little brother, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Older!Dean, POV Dean Winchester, Sam is an only child, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Uncle/Nephew Incest, non-brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinmymindforever/pseuds/lostinmymindforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My big brother John and his wife Mary practically raised me. After Mary died I did my part, taking care of Sammy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncle Dean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrankyWhenProvoked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrankyWhenProvoked/gifts).



I was pretty young when my mother passed away, and I never knew who my father was, but that wasn’t that bad of a thing. It’s not like I didn’t have a father figure, I had my big brother, John, who helped raise me. And after our mother died I moved in with him and his wife Mary. 

They were always good to me, made sure I never wanted for anything. And when they told me they were expecting a baby I was happy beyond belief. I was 14 when Sammy was born, and I couldn’t have been more excited. Sure John and Mary fought, but Sammy held them, held all of us together. But then the night Sammy turned six months old a fire ripped through our house, killing Mary and changing my big brother forever.

I was put in charge of Sammy, even more so than I had already been. It didn’t take long before John had dragged me into his world of hunting down the thing that had killed his wife, having me do research while I took care of Sammy. I did it willingly, doing whatever I could to assist. When he wanted me to learn to fight I did, not because I wanted to fight, but because I wanted to be able to protect, to take care of Sammy, who I was starting to think of as more my own than John’s.

It didn’t help matters that Sammy’s first word was “da-da”, but it wasn’t directed at John, it was said to me. I could see the sadness in my brother’s eyes, could see the way he seemed so lost and hurt by that. He never blamed me, how could he? He knew I was around Sammy more than him, knew that it was only natural that Sammy bonded with me over him. And I think it killed him a little inside each time I had to correct Sammy and have him call John “da-da” and me Dean.

By the time Sammy was four, I was 18, and John was taking off on longer and longer hunts, leaving the two of us together. I didn’t really mind, even though most people mistook me for being Sammy’s dad. A part of me, this big part I really didn’t want to think about, kinda enjoyed it when people would say how good I was with my “son”. It was easier to just go with it than to explain that I was his uncle and his father was off god knows where doing god knows what.

When Sammy started school I felt lost. I hadn’t been in school since Mary died, I really don’t think John even realized that I just hadn’t been going in the first few months, and by the time he realized I had fully dropped out I was so busy taking care of Sammy that he never saw the need to get me to go back. Don’t get me wrong, I missed out on a lot, having not even finished my freshman year of high school, but Sammy was more than enough to make up for it.

Sammy was a smart kid, brilliant, smarter than any kid in his class and that fact made me swell with pride. Sammy was my perfect little boy, and all the other parents wondered how I got him so well behaved. I couldn’t explain it. Sammy was just a good kid, kind and generous and made friends quickly.

By the time Sammy was 8 we had had to move more times than I had liked and I finally sat down with John on one of the few occasions he was home and told him that something needed to change. We were staying with Bobby at the time and it was summer, so thankfully this most recent move hadn’t pulled Sammy out of yet another school. I flat out told him I was sick of always having to pack up and leave, that it wasn’t fair to me, and it sure as hell wasn’t fair to Sammy. 

Bobby had agreed with me, and later that night John left on yet another hunt, and I found myself looking into the help wanted ads to find work as it had been decided that we were staying put, that Sammy wasn’t going to be moved all over the country just because of his father’s quest. We didn’t see John until Sammy’s next birthday, and he was barely back for a couple of days before he was gone again.

Sammy and I had moved into this small little place not far from Bobby’s and I had gotten a job working at a garage. I may not have had a lot of book smarts but I was good with my hands, good with cars, and I took care of the two of us. Sure it was rough at times, sometimes we didn’t have quite enough money to buy everything we needed, but Bobby always helped us, never once asking for anything in return.

I didn’t date. Didn’t have the time for it. My job and taking care of Sammy and helping with research took up most of my time, and I wasn’t about to let myself get distracted by someone else. It might seem odd, but at almost 24 I was still a virgin, and I was fine with that fact. Bobby sometimes told me he was worried about me, about how my single focus on taking care of Sammy was effecting me. But every time he’d mention it I’d change the topic, a part of me not wanting him to know the truth.

I’m really not sure how many women flirted with me when I’d be working on their cars, it wasn’t something I really paid attention to. I was there to work, not socialize, and my lack of interest made me the brunt of my fellow employees jokes sometimes. The summer after Sammy’s 10th birthday this guy named Jason started working at the garage. Almost instantly he seemed to notice the teasing and the way women would flirt with me and the way I ignored it. 

He joined in on the jokes and it should have stayed like that, but I’d hear him muttering under his breath as he looked at me. He’d whisper words like “fag” and “gay” and “queer” and “disgusting pervert” just loud enough that I could hear him. It didn’t mean anything to me at first, why would it. I wasn’t interested in anyone, and even if I was gay like he was insinuating that was nobodies concern but mine. But the thing that brought things to a head, the thing that had me punching him in the face and threatening him was when he insinuated that there was something going on between me and Sammy.

We’d all been sitting around. We had finished working on the cars that were there hours earlier, but our boss wasn’t gonna send any of us home early because the last time that had happened we had gotten 4 new cars in in less than a half hour. The others were talking about their families, their wives and kids and someone had asked me about who I had waiting for me at home. I’d innocently said Sammy. Why wouldn’t I? He was and is my pride and joy. 

Most of the guys knew who I was talking about, but of few of them didn’t. And Jason started up with his crap again, calling me a no good queer, saying all sorts of vile crap about me, none of it true obviously. I had decided to clear up what I was talking about, saying that Sammy wasn’t my boyfriend or lover or anything like that, but my 10 year old nephew who lived with me. That’s when things went from bad to worse between me and Jason. From the start he had it in for me for some unknown reason, but when he started saying shit like how I was supposedly abusing, both physically and sexually, Sammy, I lost control and punched him in the face. 

I didn’t care what that asshole said about me, but bringing my boy into it? That I could not forgive. Not surprisingly that afternoon I came home with the contents of my locker, fired for attacking a fellow employee. Social services showed up a few days later, coming to check the living conditions at our place, but they found nothing out of the ordinary, and why would they.

I was out of a job and knew that nowhere around where we lived would hire me, not after I had attacked Jason as I had. I was scared that I’d have to break my promise to Sammy, that I’d have to pack us up and move away from the place we had called home for two years now. I didn’t tell Bobby what was going on, but less than a week after being fired I found myself being smacked upside the head by him and him calling me an idjit. I started working at his salvage yard the next day, which in a way was even better than me working at the garage as Sammy could hang out inside Bobby’s house while we worked outside.

Things should have been looking up, but Jason’s words kept running through my head over and over again. I couldn’t get Sammy’s face out of my head, part of which I blamed on him always being around, the other due to what that asshole had said. I decided to go out one evening and try and finally lose my virginity. John was around for once, and he and Sammy were off at Bobby’s for the evening. 

I went to the nearest bar, losing myself in the crowd, letting the music and booze lull me into a loose state. I could do this. But in the end I got as far as a few sloppy kisses from this pretty little drunk girl before I had to leave. I just couldn’t. It didn’t feel right and I wasn’t about to just fuck someone to say I did it.

Maybe it was the girl, I thought. Over the next few weeks I tried time and again. John was hanging around and Sammy was spending some much needed time with his dad, though a part of me would get jealous every time Sammy told me about something he and his father had done when I wasn’t with them. Okay true, maybe I was a bit too involved in Sammy’s life, maybe it wasn’t healthy that I spent more time with a 10 year old kid than people my own age, but it wasn’t hurting anyone.

As much as I tried, as many girls as I attempted to hook up with I just couldn’t bring myself to actually do anything with them. Finally one girl gave me this sad little smile and told me that maybe I should just try and find a nice guy to hook up with, as obviously I was batting for the other team. She wasn’t mean about it, more sympathetic than anything. So the next night I found myself in a different club, trying to get the courage to actually approach a guy. I’d never really thought about it, about my sexuality, but now looking at it I should have known all along what I was interested in. 

Though the fact that every single guy who got me going had hazel eyes, brown hair, and smiles to die for didn’t really register on me. Not for a few years at least. You’d think I would have figured out that little fact, but it wasn’t until the summer of ‘98 when Sammy was 15 and sprouting up like a weed that I finally started to get a clue. Sammy was growing into a gorgeous young man, smart and kind as he’d always been, but there was something else, something new that I just couldn’t put my finger on.

It wasn’t until I was out for a night at my usual haunt, picking up some cute young dude with those hazel eyes and dimpled smile that made me weak in the knees that I noticed it. Fuck I hadn’t even gotten his name before I was dragging him off into the back room and had him half naked, bent over one of the couches with me buried inside of him. 

After it was all said and done he gave me this little smile, one so similar to that girl all those years earlier, and told me that I should just go home to Sammy and make up to him for cheating on him. I was shocked into silence, and the guy seemed to realize that. He told me then I should just tell my Sammy how I felt, as obviously it had been him I had been thinking about, because apparently I had moaned his name as I came. 

I went home, sick to my stomach. Not from the alcohol, I’d barely finished a beer and had only had one shot before hooking up with the dude, but sick with myself. I closed my eyes, thinking about what had been going through my head as we had fucked, and much to my shock and confusion I found that I’d been thinking about my nephew. I wanted him. Wanted him more than I had ever wanted a single person in my life, and I knew I shouldn’t.

Sammy was still up when I got home, as it was barely 9PM and as it was summer Sammy didn’t go to bed until he was tired. He gave me this little confused look, usually I wouldn’t be home until late when I went out like this and he knew it. When I sat down on the couch and put my head in my hands he sat down next to me, resting his hand on my shoulder, trying to figure out what was wrong. I couldn’t help the shock of pleasure that went through me at that simple touch, but refused to push him away.

He asked me what was wrong, and lord help me, I don’t know what came over me, I told him that I loved him. He had this little confused look on his face. Of course I loved him, he’d known that for years. He said as much and I let out this broken little laugh, telling him he was wrong, that I loved him in a way I shouldn’t. Sammy was smart, don’t ever think otherwise, so he figured out right away what I was meaning. He gave me this little look and nodded before standing and walking out of the room. 

I knew things would never be the same, not after my admission. I felt guilty and sick, like the pervert Jason had accused me of being all those years earlier. I’d understand if Sammy didn’t want anything to do with me, and wouldn’t have fought him if he’d wanted to leave, so I was completely confused when he walked back into the living room with this little look on his face, holding his hand out to me and asked me to come with him.

I should have said no. That would have been the responsible adult thing to do, but I found myself standing, crossing the room to him, letting him take me by the hand and lead me to my bedroom. He was biting his lip nervously when we finally reached the bed, letting go of my hand before he slowly pulled his shirt over his head. I stood there speechless, trying to understand what was going on, not moving a muscle to stop him as he unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off of my shoulders. He wrapped his arms around my neck, leaning up to kiss me softly.

That simple kiss was the most perfect, intense kiss I had ever felt in my life. I knew I shouldn’t be allowing this to happen, that I should stop Sammy from kissing me, but I couldn’t help myself. Not when Sammy seemed to want this just as much as I did, if the way he moaned into the kiss and the hard length of his erection rubbing against mine was anything to go by. The way Sammy seemed so perfectly in my arms, as if we were made to do this, made to be pressed together like this had me seeing stars.

By the time we pulled apart we were both panting. I rested my forehead against Sammy’s, trying to catch my breath, my eyes locked with his, trying to see any hint of doubt or uncertainty in his eyes. All I could see was want and lust and love. Fuck I shouldn’t have even kissed him, let alone anything else, but Sammy was my world and I could never say no to him, not since the day I first held him in my arms. 

I gently shoved Sammy until he landed on the bed, looking down at him with this little grin on my face. I couldn’t say that this was the first time I’d seen Sammy on my bed, but it was the first time like this, the first time that I actually was seeing him as more than my nephew and responsibility. I took my time, kissing and touching him, making him moan, making him lose control, until we were both panting, covered in sweat and various other body fluids.

That night was the first time in years we shared a bed, and if it wasn’t for his father coming to visit every so often we would have just converted his bedroom into an office or something, because Sammy never slept in that room again. The years passed quickly, and before I knew it Sam was graduating high school at the top of his class with a full ride scholarship to Stanford in hand.

The next few years were hard on both of us, Sam off at school, only home on school breaks and during the summers, but we fell into each other’s arms, fell into bed with each other every single night he was around. I think John may have had some clue about my relationship with his son. He never said anything, but the way he would look at me sometimes with this hurt, almost disgusted, mistrusting look on his face said what the words lacked.

And then one seemingly normal day I got a phone call from Sam. He sounded scared and lost. I could tell he’d been crying, that something horrible had happened. All he would say was his roommate’s name in between sobs. I called Bobby, letting him know I’d be gone for a while and packed my bags. I was out by Sam less than a day later, pulling into my arms as he cried. He told me about the fire, about having been out at a bar talking with John who was out for a brief visit only to come home to find Jessica, his roommate and best friend, dead, burning on the ceiling the same way his mother had died.

The fact that it happened on the 22nd anniversary of her death didn’t escape me. I got us a motel room, holding Sam until he passed out in my arms. After I was sure he was out cold I called John, and my suspicions were confirmed. It was the same demon who had killed Mary all those years earlier. John was already off trying to hunt the bastard down. Part of me knew I’d never see my brother again, not by the way he told me to take care of Sammy, to watch out for him, that no matter what happened to him, with him, to love and protect him. 

By the time we got back to our place John’s belongings, weapons he never parted with, his journal, a few other mementos were waiting for us in a box on our doorstep. We found out a few months later that John had tracked the son of a bitch down and killed him, only to die of his wounds a few days later. We ended up burying John next to Mary, Sam and I standing hand in hand. It was raining the day of John’s funeral, almost fitting in a way.

Sam was the one to bring up hitting the road and hunting things down. Our lives had been screwed up by the supernatural, but as far as we were concerned no one else needed to deal with the crap we did. We picked up where John had left off, hunting things, saving people. The family business.


End file.
